He thought he was checking out illegal logging in the Idaho mountains-until he found a German Shepherd locked in a frozen cage, staring at him like it had been waiting for exactly one person

carried what people gave them. This one seemed to carry a whole route through pain, memory, and snow.

“Atlas,” Grant said.

The dog’s ears moved.

Jenna smiled faintly. “Yeah. That fits.”

That night Grant slept in the leather chair by the stove with one boot on the floor and the other braced against the hearth. Atlas did not really sleep. He slipped in and continue reading …